


these memories haunt me like a moon (holds a sea like the sky holds a sun)

by kingmaker



Category: Code Geass, Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, F/M, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:07:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26127736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingmaker/pseuds/kingmaker
Summary: Uchiha Sasuke is four summers old when a brush with death produced a startling revelation: he used to be Lelouch vi Britannia.
Relationships: C.C. & Lelouch Lamperouge | Lelouch vi Britannia
Comments: 18
Kudos: 32





	1. gunpowder, treason, and plot

**Author's Note:**

> [Gigguk VC]: what’s better than _one_ favourite edgy anime boy? _two_ favourite edgy anime boys.

“— _brother!_ ”

Uchiha Sasuke’s body reacted instinctively, and he’d backflipped into a low crouch, narrowly missing a shower of shuriken that embedded themselves in the dry ground where he had been.

In front of him, Itachi leaped into action with a contained katon and set a woman aflame. Pushing through, kunai in each hand, he’d roundhouse kicked a Kiri-nin who’d been aiming to attack their mother’s unprotected back, and engaged another, who was wielding a wickedly sharp umbrella.

Before Mikoto was Itachi and Sasuke’s mother, she was a Joūnin of Konohagakure. Her mastery showed in her sharp, precise movements, quick techniques, and in the massive, dragon-shaped torrent of fire she’d breathed out, burning its way through the narrow market street. She gave her opponents no quarter, slaughtering men left and right with a wakizashi she’d pulled out of nowhere.

Meanwhile, Sasuke had pillaged a dead Kiri-nin’s weapons pouch and obtained several kunai; four out of five of which found their marks in the vital points of an enemy ninja who’d spotted him. The last one missed and the man was still alive, but Sasuke wasn’t too concerned. The bloody battle that broke out in the middle of the village was dying out as quickly as it blazed to life with the arrival of reinforcements in the form of the Uchiha Police Force.

Later that day Sasuke would learn that the incident was provoked by an unsuccessful attempt at kidnapping the Hyūga heiress to dissect her for the secrets of her clan’s kekkei genkai. Having failed at that, a group of rogue Kiri-nin had committed to try to remedy their officially non-existent mission by acquiring the dōjutsu of Konohagakure’s other noble clan. A fruitless, suicidal effort, Sasuke would decide, but perversely commendable in its senseless daring. None of the attackers had survived unfortunately; pity Torture and Interrogation Force couldn’t question corpses.

Right now, however, Sasuke rolled out from beneath a food stall he’d been hiding under, dusted off his trousers, and considered his predicament. As the attack unfolded, he had realised with a disturbing level of detachment, that he was not supposed to have survived. He came from a ninja clan, but he was still a child. Death did not court him often, and today it had brushed passed him.

Sasuke tilted his head far back, looking up at the endless, spotless blue of the sky. It looked very much like the sky on the day he had died.

Memories that didn’t quite belong to a four-year-old child were tumbling through his mind, feeling like pieces of something much bigger than him; they were like pieces of splintered time drifting by.

 _I destroyed the world, and created it anew_.

“Huh, what do you know,” Lelouch vi Britannia said.

.

.

.

“Would you like to make a contract?”

The boy’s eyes shot open. He found himself in an unknown plane of existence; it had no end and no beginning. This place had no point of reference or position vector, just endless, fathomless suspension in an aether.

Distantly, he realised as he was drifting through the sea of pink non-matter, that he was naked. As soon as the thought came, it manifested itself in an ornate, black military uniform. The boy gingerly fingered the officer’s cap on top of his head, the clothes felt oddly familiar.

“Ah _em_.”

The boy jerked up, and was met with wide, glaring eyes, as gold as twin suns. They belonged to an amused-looking girl who was floating in the air above him. Her skin was unmarred and ivory pale, and her hair was long and green, and it was gently undulating with the flow of some unknown currents. It was hard to gauge her age, she looked young and timeless all at once.

The boy felt enraptured by her golden gaze and it felt like an eternity was passing him by as he stared at her, mystified. Finally, she huffed. “You’re being rather obtuse, darling.”

“Ummmm,” he said. “Sorry?” He felt he should introduce himself properly, it was only polite to do so before enquiring after the identity of his enigmatic companion, but for some inconceivable reason, his name escaped his grasp. He swore it was something important and it was _right there_ , rolling on the tip of his tongue, but no matter how hard he tried, it evaded him.

Instead, he looked around. Wherever he was, there was no sound and no smells, and in every direction the eye could see, everything was enveloped by a soft, subtly sparkling, pale-pink mist. Peculiar, that.

“Where are we?”

“How should I know? You’re the one who brought me here.”

“I… _what?_ ”

“Oh,” she smiled slyly as her eyes narrowed, and the boy felt inexplicably uncomfortable. He got the distinct impression that particular expression prefaced some sort of suffering. “Don’t you _remember_?”

“I really don’t.”

That seemed to have startled her. She pulled back, tilted her head to the side like a songbird, and gave him a long, probing look. She hummed consideringly. Then, she tweaked his nose, and floated up and up, until she was spinning in loops and circles, and cackling with a peculiar, hollow laugh.

“Would you like to make a contract,” she asked with a tone of resigned formality.

“What sort of contract?”

“A deal with the devil,” she gave a cheshire cat smile as his eyebrow twitched. “Or something like that. I’ll fix up that hole in your head, and in exchange, you’ll do me a teensy-weensy little favour.”

“Sounds distinctly faustian, but all right, I’ll bite — what sort of favour?”

“Now that would be telling, darling~!”

The boy’s eyes narrowed. “You’re some sort of swindler, aren’t you?”

“I’m the kind that feeds on the souls of young, pretty boys.” The girl batted her long eyelashes in exaggeration. “A witch needs sustenance to stay youthful, don’t you know?”

“Yeah, thanks, but no thanks,” he said, turned on his heel, and began walking in the opposite direction. He wasn’t sure how to exit… wherever he currently was, but he’d rather not hang around someone who was clearly an escapee from an insane asylum, straight-jacket and all. Insanity could be contagious.

The menace in question somersaulted in the air and began hovering upside down right next to the boy as he walked, her long hair floating behind her like a river of green, defying laws of gravity. “You’re being quite difficult this time around, darling,” she concluded, watching him closely with her unblinking eyes. “You’re no fun at all.”

“So I’m told.”

“Who told you that?” 

He considered, and came up blank.

“You don’t know, do you? You don’t know anything at all.” She cackled again. He gave her a side-ways stare. She wasn’t unhinged, but desperate. It was wrapped around her like a shroud, she reeked of it. “But you want to, don’t you, darling?”

 _Remember_ , the word hammered in his brain like a heartbeat, making him dizzy. He _had_ to remember. It was vital.

“You have forgotten who you are, and so have forgotten me. Look inside yourself, darling. You are more than what you are now. You must take your rightful place.” She twisted, and was face to face with him once more. Her eyes were painfully familiar. His throat felt dry. “I propose a deal — in exchange for your memories, you must agree to make my one wish come true.”

“That’s it?”

She hummed. “More or less, yes. There’s a bit of rescuing to be done, too, but nothing you can’t handle, darling.”

“I still feel like I’m selling my soul to the devil.”

The look she gave him was sharp and hungry. He shivered. “You’re not entirely wrong there. So… would you like to make a contract?”

“Yes,” he sighed.

“Yes, _darling_ ,” she corrected, and twisted mid-air to float down to his eye-level, smiling brightly, wickedly. She leaned forward, and the boy could feel her arms wrap themselves around his chest and back, bringing him close into a warm, familiar embrace. Her hair fell around them like a curtain, her nose brushed against his, and her hot breath ghosted over his lips. He shivered, with alarm and anticipation.

“Let’s seal the deal,” she leaned closer. “Just like old times.” Then, she whispered his name and kissed him.

The world crumbled and tumbled down around them.

.

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta? What beta? ... *sob sob* actually, I do need a beta. (ಥ﹏ಥ)
> 
> I feel like certain tags might be spoilery, so I’m adding things as the story progresses. That is not to say I actually know where this is going. It’s entirely self-indulgent and a product of reading too many CG fanfics in a row. My brain is high on Lulu, and thus I came up with a bananas plot.
> 
> Reviews are welcome and appreciated, I’d like to know what you guys think. Feel free to suggest things in reviews, if you care to do so, although I can’t promise anything with regards to implementation of said suggestions.
> 
> Find me on tumblr [@winry-rockbell](https://winry-rockbell.tumblr.com). ;)


	2. some things you can’t go back to

“ _I’m sorry I failed you_ …”

Lelouch woke up with a lurch, like he’d been slapped awake, but when he jerked his head up, the room was still and bathed in soft, languid darkness, the sky outside teetering on the edge of daybreak. Slowly, he let go of the kunai he’d reached out for and extracted his hand from under his pillow.

Stiltedly, Lelouch sat up.

He kicked the covers off, pulled himself onto his knees, and yanked a window open, staring at the Uchiha estate’s sprawling grounds and thinking. He felt disoriented, his consciousness was muddled and slow, like he was waking up from a deep, dreamless slumber.

His mother’s herb garden outside was shadowed and gloomy, and in it, summer cicadas sang. The morning air was chilled and fresh, and the breeze blew into his room, ruffling his hair and bringing with it the sweet smell of blooming dahlias.

“What am I even doing…” Lelouch muttered under his breath, and looked down at his hands.

They were small and pale, but the skin of his palms and fingers was firm and rough. Absentmindedly, he traced the thicker calluses between his forefinger and middle-finger, recalling that Sasuke was ambidextrous with preference towards his left hand.

He stretched out and grabbed the kunai hidden beneath his pillow, making a single notch on the wooden panel of his window wall. Then, he flipped the kunai and caught it mid-air. Settling down, Lelouch tilted his head and began cataloguing his memories, his hands instinctively performing basic dexterity training with the weapon.

At the edge of his consciousness, he heard the distant sounds of a waking household — soft padding of feet against wooden floorboards; faint, indistinguishable conversations; muffled sounds of people rolling up futons and changing out of tousled clothing. Soon, he knew, his brother would slide open Sasuke’s door to wake him up and call him downstairs to help their mother with breakfast.

Lelouch sat in the dark and waited.

Shortly, dawn broke.

.

.

.

Breakfast was a quiet, dignified affair.

Conversation was sparse, mundane, and perfunctory, carried out primarily between Mikoto and Itachi, and only in-between the lulls of clinking of chopsticks against bowls. Fugaku, perpetually silent and sombre, kneeled at the head of the table, his back to the open door leading to the engawa. Mikoto was on his right, Itachi on his left, and Lelouch was across from him, watching how the dragonflies fluttered between flower beds, until the glare of the morning sun proved to be too much, and he looked down at the chirirenge gripped in his hand.

It was giving him a headache, this binary consciousness.

On one hand, he was Uchiha Sasuke, the youngest son of Uchiha Fugaku and Uchiha Mikoto, the latest genius in a long, esteemed line of geniuses. The newly acquired degree of separation permitted him to assess himself accurately enough to determine that Sasuke was talented, gifted, and eager to please; he was hungry for affection and approval from his rather strict family, and thus, to a certain extent, insecure and doubtful of his abilities.

“Sasuke-chan,” his mother called, “be a dear and pass me the hiyayakko.”

Lelouch wordlessly plucked the bowl in front of him and handed it to his mother without looking up from his barely touched food. He hadn’t noticed Mikoto giving him a concerned stare.

On the other hand, he was certain he once was Lelouch vi Britannia.

Who was supposed to have died. (He did.) Lacking the Code, he shouldn’t have resurrected. (He didn’t.) Upon his carefully planned demise, he should have spent an ambiguous existence as part of Collective Unconsciousness in the C-World, or had been sent to the seventh circle of hell or its closest equivalent. (He hadn’t.)

Lelouch wasn’t quite sure how to feel about an unscheduled reincarnation throwing a spanner in the works of his grand masterplan. The world was making less and less sense the more he contemplated its particulars.

“Sasuke-chan?”

Lelouch looked up at his mother. She had long, black hair, straight as a pin, silky and lovely. Her eyes were the same dark grey as both of her sons, and her skin was paper thin and paper white. Mikoto was beautiful, and she looked nothing like Marianne. Still, he could almost see the ghost of the dead Empress hovering over Mikoto’s shoulder, taunting him.

“Yes,” he asked.

“Are,” Mikoto hesitated, “you all right?”

“Yes, mother.”

“If you’re sure.” Mikoto glanced at her husband, as if urging him to say something. Fugaku stayed silent. “Eat up, dear, you have a long day ahead of you.”

It was then Lelouch noticed the wary furrow between his brother’s eyebrows, his mother’s tightly pinched mouth and uncertain eyes. Silently, he cursed himself for his inattentiveness. But a bigger part of him chafed under their scrutiny.

He felt like an intruder.

 _This isn’t my family_ , he wanted to scream. _I’m not your son_.

But the ugly truth was that he was their son. It wasn’t like her shamelessly took over an innocent kid’s body during some sort of twisted, transdimensional possession. He had died as Lelouch and he was reborn as Sasuke, they were one and the same. He could feel like a child-murdering fraud all he wanted, but that wouldn’t change the objective reality — this was his family, his clan, and he was their child. This was his life, and he was alone.

There was no Nunnally, no Kallen, no C.C., no Jeremiah or Suzaku. There was only Lelouch and the heavy weight of the tumbling reservations at the heart of his mistakes.

“ _I’m sorry I failed you_ …”  
“ _Forget about that! Don’t give up! I promise, I’ll save you!_ ”

Lelouch jerked, forcibly shaking out the thoughts out of his head. He clenched his hands under the table, curling his fingers so tightly into themselves he felt it as his nails drew blood. But even the sharp sting of pain wasn’t helping him focus.

“Please, excuse me,” Lelouch muttered, and without waiting for a reply, unfolded himself out of his kneeling position and swiftly made his way towards the bathroom he shared with Itachi on the second floor.

Closing and locking the door, he pulled up the toilet seat, and emptied his stomach of what little food he’d just consumed. Afterwards, he staggered, leaned against a wall, and slid down onto the cool tiles, slumping forwards into a heap.

Lelouch’s head was swimming and his heart was racing.

It was all too much.

He felt a rush of emotions sweep through him, drowning out his reason under a vicious riptide of contrasting feelings. The more he remembered about his past, the worse his body felt and more muddled his thoughts became. It was as if he was trudging through a swamp, weighted down by the muck of his fervour and turbulent passions.

He stayed like that, solely focusing on his breathing whilst emptying his mind, untying each thread of confusing feelings one at a time, for what felt like hours, but must only have been mere minutes.

Finally, Lelouch lurched upright, pulling himself up by the edge of the sink. He flicked the tap and dunked his head under a cold stream of water. Moments later, he turned the water off, finally gaining a semblance of mental coherency. Lelouch straightened up, droplets falling from his wet hair and down his neck and collarbone, and making their way beneath his shirt. He slapped himself once, twice, and stared at his pallid, wan reflection.

There was little of vi Britannia in his new face. Sasuke’s features were refined and well-formed, full of promise of regal handsomeness upon maturity, but somewhat unappealing to Lelouch with their brooding disposition and stoic countenance, reminding him too strongly of C.C.’s expression of unflappable indifference. His eyes were not his own; they were sharp and bright, and deep inky-grey, like a dark underbelly of a thunderstorm.

Except… no, they were _bleeding_.

Lelouch touched his cheek, his fingers coming back wet, but not with blood, like he’d initially thought. His tears weren’t red, his eyes were. They stinged and itched, and Lelouch swiped at them harshly, trying to clear the irritation. It must have helped because the feeling of foreignness was gone, even if it felt like they pulsated with his heartbeat.

His eyes were _still_ red.

 _Sharingan_ , Lelouch mused distantly, finally realising what had happened, _the eye that reflects the heart_ ; _an apt name_.

The iris bled with bright, rich crimson; the colour of tiger lilies in full-bloom at Aries Imperial Villa, of Guren’s Radiant Wave Surger, of Kallen’s hair. The pipil was orbited by a single black tomoe, spinning endlessly in a hypnotising circle.

Intrigued and curious, Lelouch focused and drained his chakra out, like his brother taught him. Instantly something shifted and his eyes changed yet again. They were still blazing red, but no longer looked like inferno made flesh, instead became a darker, deeper shade, a depthless ocean of blood to drown in. In the centre, there was a glowing silhouette of a bird in flight, ready to soar with a command of Absolute Obedience.

_Would you like to make a contract?_

For the first time since he awoke, he felt like he understood his place in this world. The Demon Emperor smiled.

.

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for everyone’s kuddos, follows, bookmarks, and reviews. I’m flattered that people found this self-indulgent project of mine interesting enough to check it out. Reviews are welcome and appreciated, they give me sustenance.
> 
> I’m not wholly certain of where this story is going, outside of broad, nebulous ideas. Still, I’ll try to have at least one development per chapter, so the story has some forward momentum.
> 
> Also, as a minor detail, let me say: I’m very fond of Korean reincarnation manhwas. kekekekeke. 
> 
> Find me on tumblr [@winry-rockbell](https://winry-rockbell.tumblr.com). ;)


End file.
